Deep down, he knew that no meditation app and no amount of time in the world would help, so he dialed the number, mentally repeating his mantra:I will remain calm. I will remain professional. I will remain friendly. I will not be provoked. I will maintain all the control and cool detachment that the press says makes me so unlikable, so…
“Barrow Sports Agency, Amber Thorne, how may I help you?” Hazel’s assistant answered after half an eternity, as if she’d hoped he’d hang up.
Gareth narrowed his eyes, and his shoulders tensed. It was the same every time. “Ms. Thorne,” he stated calmly, “this is Gareth Clark. I’d like to speak to Ms. Barrow.”
“Did you say Snark? I don’t know a Mr. Snark.”
He gritted his teeth. He knew Amber hated him, probably because Hazel had told her why she hated him. “Amber, it’s late. Just put me through,” he replied gruffly.
There was silence on the other side for a few seconds, then, “Hazel’s gone home.”
“She hasn’t.”
“Yes, two hours ago.”
“No. She hasn’t,” he repeated stonily.
“Mr. Snark, I don’t know what you want me to say, but she’s not here!”
Maybe he would have believed her. Maybe he wouldn’t have gotten angry, but would have remained professional and controlled as planned. But he heard a faint laugh in the background…and he would have recognized Hazel’s laugh among thousands, even with tinnitus in his ears.
“She’s sitting next to you, isn’t she?” he whispered, dangerously calm.
“Uh…no?”
“Amber, holy shit,” he snapped. “Put her on!”
“Hm. Hazel says I should hang up if you start shouting.”
“I’m not shouting,” he growled. “I’m just vocalizing my feelings.”
“Oh, come on. What feelings?” came an annoyed voice in the background before a rustling sound and a heavy sigh greeted him the next moment. “What the hell do you want, Gareth? It’s after ten. My work hours are over.”
The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and his control was hanging by a thread. “And yet you’re still in the office,” he said abruptly.
“You too!”
“Yeah, but I’m not going to pretend my workday is over and have my assistant lie for me.”
“That’s only because Freddie is physically incapable of lying. Otherwise, you’d be constantly forcing him to tell me you’re unavailable. He'd say you’re taking a salsa dance class or whatever.”
She was absolutely correct. “That’s bullshit. And it’s breakdancing, not salsa,” he replied dryly.
“Oh, the thought of you crawling around on the floor warms my heart. Thanks for that. So, why haven’t you told me what you want yet?”
He rolled his shoulders and narrowed his eyes to keep his voice calm and collected. But God, that woman… “Fox’s contract.”
“Ah, Lyle’s getting impatient. That’s good, because so am I.”
His teeth ground together. “Fox wants to stay, Hazel. We both know that.”
“Yes, but it doesn’t give you the right to offer him three million less than he’s worth.”
“Oh, but I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth and the right to take whatever I want. Because I’m a rich bastard. Isn’t that what you told me?”
She laughed dryly. “If your manners were half as good as your memory, Gareth, then there would be no problem.”
“Oh, please. As if my manners were ever our problem!” he said contemptuously. “You know, there was a time when you liked it when I took what I wanted.”
